“If you run really quickly, you can make it out of the Smite Zone. But don’t forget, the real you is dead. I’m giving you this opportunity to say good-bye to your family before you’re slowly poisoned by your own waste products. Day Players are named Day Players for a very good reason. Good-bye, Thursday. You’ve been a worthy adversary, but it’s time to move on.”

He tossed me the handcuff keys, then quickly boarded the tiltrotor, which spooled up to full power, lifted into the hover and sped away.

I looked up at the clouds, which were now circling ever faster. The sky had become darker and a sharp wind had whipped up, throwing whorls of dust and dirt into the air. I picked up the handcuff key and released myself, then ran across to the righteous man, who opened one eye.

“Well,” said Tim, “he wasn’t very nice, was he?”

“You’re alive?”

“Of course! I’m righteous, not stupid.”

He opened his jacket to reveal a thick padded Kevlar breastplate that was snugly fitted around his chest. There were two slugs lodged in the padding.

“Makes me less than truly righteous, doesn’t it?” said Tim with a smile. “The sin of suspicion?”

“Shit,” I said as I realized something. “Now that you’re alive, the smiting will move back to Swindon and my brother will be vaporized.”

“No chance of that,” said Tim cheerfully. “I’m not nearly righteous enough to move a smiting any appreciable distance. My sin is not just suspicion but vengeance, and calculation.”

“So . . . we’re about to get smitten here and now with all the ax murderers?”

The righteous man divested himself of the breastplate, murmured that he thought he might have a broken rib, then stood up and looked around. “Where is that nasty piece of work right now?”

I pointed to where the tiltrotor had positioned itself about two miles away, static in the hover, presumably to watch Smite Solutions’ success— and the hundred-million-pound price tag that went with it.

“Ooh,” said Tim, looking up. “Impressive, don’t you think?”

I followed his gaze. The hole in the center of the swirling clouds was now bright white, and, with a deep rumbling sound, tendrils of a plasma-like substance began to descend. The tendrils grouped, then fused and were soon a dense tongue of fire. As we watched, the pillar of fulminating power moved sideways and headed toward us. I made to run, but the righteous man held my arm.

“Wait a moment,” he said. “Few get to see something like this at such close range.”